The Fall of the City of Steel

Halsey

"I have no idea what we'll find out when we get the photographs developed," I explained to Jerry, back at the apartment. "Although I have no doubt that what we learn will make it worthwhile."

"Do they know what that Dragoon really wanted to do to you?" asked Jerry.

"I was afraid it would shoot me down," I reminded, "but Tony and Rico had the other radio, and they were listening to what its pilot was saying. I neglected to ask what he said exactly, but he apparently took me to be lost. Although that doesn't explain why he chased me."

"Ghee Whiz..." Jerry reacted.

He paused for a moment, absorbing all that I had told him.

"So," he then asked, "what comes next?"

"Tomorrow," I divulged, swallowing my pride, "I'm going to skip school and help the rest analyze the photographs, then pose as an inspector to infiltrate the compound itself and- I think- sabotage it."

"Do they even allow inspectors in?" Jerry questioned. "I thought it was secret."

I gave Jerry an uncomprehending look, then realized what he had in mind. "She means an inspector hired by the government itself," I told him. "Usually, inspectors are there to make sure that the employees are being treated well. These inspectors... are more concerned with productivity."

"I want to go with you," Jerry said simply.

"You do?" reeled. "I didn't think you were interested after you learned all about it."

"Of course I am," Jerry corrected, not sounding offended. "I was fine with hearing your stories before, but there's a chance you might die tomorrow. I don't want to be at school when that happens."

Shaken by his seriousness, I stared blankly at him, then disclaimed, "I can't bring you into the compound, and I won't be in radio contact while I'm on the ground. You won't be able to talk to me."

"That's okay," Jerry assured me. "I just don't want to be sitting in a classroom while you're out making history."

"You want to make history too?" I misconstrued.

"No," he answered, becoming slightly frustrated. "I just want to be there. And if something happens to you, I want to know as soon as possible."

"You've gotten cynical," I observed.

Jerry shrugged. "This is serious business."

I did not know whether to feel sheepish or proud of him.

That afternoon, I took Jerry to ball practice. Later that evening, he suggested that we watch television. I declined, reading an old book instead. As I read, I found myself in that strange state of mine in which my eyes played across the words like rain on a window. At any moment, I could have stopped and identified how far I had read, down to the letter, but at no point was I actually understanding the text. I fell asleep with the book in my hands.

For the first few seconds of the next day, I felt an uncanny sense of forgetting something important, before remembering that my destination for the day lied at James' workshop and not school. As I brushed my teeth and bathed, I nonchalantly reflected on how adamantly I would have decried this prioritization just a week ago. While Jerry and I breakfasted, he sensed something wrong in my silence, but never spoke up.

On the flight in the linear, I had to remind myself over and over that I was traveling to the concrete building. It did not help that I had forgotten the route from the apartment suite building to the concrete one; I had to come within sight of the school building and start on the memorized path to my real destination.